Realm 05 - A Touch of Mercy (36 page)

When Aidan had first heard of the lie his mother had permitted, he had known anger and disgust, but upon thinking of how little rights a woman possessed in British society, he understood his mother’s actions. He had not approved of what Lady Cassandra had done, but he had made peace with her situation. And once he had read how his mother had set her sights on restoring him to his rightful place, Aidan had known real admiration for the woman he called “Mother.” Unlike most women, Lady Cassandra Lexford had taken the initiative to change her life. Very much like another young lady he had come to admire of late.

Hill shook his head in denial. “You do not believe the words you utter.” He picked up the clothes Aidan had discarded last evening and draped them over the back of a chair. “I will ask Mr. Payne to recommend one of the footmen to become your new valet.” Squire Holton had taken Poley into custody, along with Sophia Rhodes. The magistrate continued his investigation, but rumor and innuendo had already spread through the neighborhood. People spoke of how Mrs. Rhodes had purposely poisoned the Kimbolts’ long-serving housekeeper. Aidan prayed nothing more incriminating than Sophia Rhodes’s mental state would be listed as the cause. The prior connection between the Rhodeses and the Kimbolts could not be denied, and it would take more than just a bit of aristocratic arrogance to shush the gossip.

Aidan said, “Do as you please. That is what I plan to do. I plan to quit being the responsible one and to think of my own pleasures for a change. Perhaps I will ride with Swenton to London and engage myself a mistress.”

“Riding to London makes sense,” Hill said thoughtfully. “But not to find a mistress.”

Aidan closed his eyes to the pain. Yesterday’s events had ripped him raw. “For what would you have me look?”

Hill folded his arms across his chest. “For a wife. For Miss Nelson.”

Aidan sighed deeply. He admitted, “No one will wish to claim the connections I bring to the table. I cannot turn Aaron into my father’s by blow. There are too many secrets for a woman of Society to keep.”

Hill scowled deeply. “That statement is the biggest wagon full of cow manure I have ever smelt. First, Miss Nelson is not like other Society women, and you know as well as I the lady would protect you with her last breath. And more importantly, you are in love with the woman.”

Aidan insisted, “I do not know what love is.”

Hill sat on the arm of one of the chairs. “Do you recall the night you sent Lady Eleanor and Hannah out into the night to escape Louis Levering?”

Aidan remembered it well. It was the first time he had felt the expectation of a future. “Absolutely.”

“In the dark, I assisted Lady Eleanor and her maid into that small hidden box under the wagon, but even though the night hid Hannah’s sweet countenance, I fell in love with the girl. My lady wrapped my old callused hands between her two small ones, and she kissed my fingertips in gratitude. One of her tears fell upon the back of my hand, and I knew instantly I was meant to protect Hannah Tolliver from the world’s evils. Tell me you do not feel the same for Miss Nelson. Tell me you do not grieve for her absence. Convince me your house could be a home again without the lady under your roof.”

Aidan spoke his fears. “What if Miss Nelson does not feel the same?”

Hill dug into his inside pocket. “Read the lady’s note and decide for yourself.”

*

A quarter hour later, Aidan strode into the morning room. “Mr. Payne, I will require a horse. I mean to ride into London with the baron.”

The butler looked up from the plate he was preparing for Aidan. “I believe, Sir, Mr. Hill has previously seen to your horse and a small bag for traveling.”

Aidan rolled his eyes in exasperation. He sometimes wished Lucifer Hill did not anticipate each of his decisions, and Aidan most definitely wished the man were not always so bloody correct. Upon Hill’s earlier exit, Aidan had broken the seal on Miss Nelson’s letter and had cautiously read the lady’s words. Not so surprisingly, she confessed everything–her name, her reasons for leaving Lancashire, and her meeting of Jamot in the tunnel. But it was the poem from William Blake at the letter’s end, which had driven Aidan to take action.

Never seek to tell thy love,

Love that never can be;

For the gentle wind doth move

Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,

I told her all my heart,

Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.

Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,

A traveler came by,

Silently, invisibly:

He took her with a sigh.

With the poem, the lady had spoken of freedom. First, of her freedom from her brother’s rule–freedom to choose her own life. But more importantly, she meant to release him to know another. She would remain silent and invisible. Like the lady in the poem, Miss Nelson would turn to another, one she thought lesser than he.

The poem had given Aidan promise. He had reasoned only a woman in love would deny her own feelings in order for the man for whom she cared to know contentment. Then Miss Nelson had signed the letter with the closing, “I claim this title once only–Your Mercy.” It was an exhilarating moment.

Hill appeared at the morning room door. “The baron and I await you in the main corridor, my Lord.”

“I will finish my breakfast first, Mr. Hill.” Although he had no appetite, Aidan meant to make certain his friends waited. They had manipulated him enough of late. With a smile, he took a large bite of the ham upon his plate.

*

They had ridden hard and long for three days, and Aidan had more than just a few sore muscles; but in another sixty miles, he would arrive in London. He meant to call immediately upon the boarding houses Hill had recommended to Miss Nelson. It had been more than a sennight since he had last seen her, and Aidan ached to hold the lady in his arms again.

They reined in before a small posting inn outside of Bedford to change horses. Aidan slid stiffly from the saddle. “I will ascertain whether Miss Nelson boarded the London coach safely.” From Warwick, they had traced the mail route, the one leading toward Nottingham and beyond from London. From a coaching agent some twenty miles north, they had learned Miss Nelson would have changed coaches at this particular inn. He did not look to his friends for affirmation; Aidan realized they both sported knowing smirks.

Straightening his shoulders, he entered the darkened room. It smelt of stale ale and tobacco. “Yes, Sir, may I be of assistance?”

Aidan’s eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. “I am asking after information on a young woman traveling alone, some three days prior.”

The innkeeper bowed a second time. “Of course, my Lord. If’n you’d describe the lady I’d be pleased to be of service.”

“Reddish blonde of head. Shoulder height. Dressed plainly. Fair of countenance.”

The innkeeper nodded readily. “Aye, Sir. I remember her. The lady had to wait some three hours for the coach from the North.”

Aidan breathed easier. Miss Nelson could still have experienced difficulties, but he looked upon this information as a good sign. “Then the lady continued her journey toward London?”

The innkeeper looked uncomfortably about the room. “I fear not, my Lord.”

Aidan blustered, “Why ever not?”

“Lexford?” Aidan turned at the sound of his name. “Lexford, is that you?” Striding toward him with hand extended was Adam Lawrence, Lord Stafford, the future Earl of Greenwall. The viscount held similar acquaintances as Aidan, and he and Stafford had shared more than one drink at White’s. Godown had no use for the man for Stafford rivaled Godown in looks, and they often had vied for the attentions of the same women, but Aidan had always enjoyed the man’s company. Stafford was intelligent and genial and always benevolent in his actions.

“Stafford, what brings you to this inn?” Aidan willingly accepted the man’s hand. “Surely you have not taken to riding the mail routes.” He and the viscount often bid on the same horses at Tattersall’s. It was something else Aidan admired in the man: Stafford had an excellent eye for horseflesh.

“Monroe, Whitmore, Hetzer, and I meet every few months or so for a lengthy game of cards. Winner takes all. I mean to supplement the pitiful allowance Greenwall sees fit to give me.”

Aidan was well aware of the ongoing feud between Stafford and his father. The earl meant to bring his son under control, but the viscount had other ideas. “What if you lose?” Aidan asked with a wry grin.

Stafford looked over his shoulder to where Monroe downed another glass of ale. “It will never happen.”

“How long have you been here?” Aidan asked from curiosity.

Stafford rotated his neck to loosen the muscles. “Nearly five days.”

The innkeeper interrupted. “His Lordship is looking for the girl. You know the one, my Lord. The one Mr. Monroe took a liking to.”

Aidan’s heart slammed to a halt. “He did what?” he said incredulously and shoved past Stafford, but the viscount caught Aidan’s arm.

“Monroe never touched the girl,” Stafford hissed. “I made certain she was safe.”

Aidan’s muscles remained tight, but he presented the viscount a sharp nod of gratitude. “Did you see the lady board the coach? The innkeeper says she did not.”

Stafford gestured Aidan toward a recessed area for privacy. “The innkeeper speaks the truth. The girl left on horseback with two men.”

Aidan’s throat had gone dry. “Two men? What can you tell me of them?”

“The taller of the two was a foreigner. Dark of skin and hair. Dangerous looking.”

“Jamot!” Aidan’s mind screamed. He thought his knees might buckle under him. He should have given pursuit the night of the fire. Of course, the Baloch would attempt to strike back at him by hurting Miss Nelson. “Was the other a young gentleman with coal black hair?”

Stafford nodded his affirmation. “I thought it odd that the girl had waited so patiently for the coach and then left in the opposite direction, but she did not indicate she required my assistance. Trent held her arm while the dark one arranged for fresh horses.”

“Trent?” It was a name with which he was familiar. Swenton had spoken of Miss Nelson’s betrothed.

Stafford confirmed, “Yes, Mathias Trent. The heir to Sir Lesley Trent. I have only seen the future baronet a few times, but I have no high opinion of him. I thought to interfere, but I heard the lady call him ‘Mathias,’ and I knew they held a prior acquaintance.”

Aidan sucked in a deep steadying breath. “Thank you, Stafford. I should hurry,” he said shakily. “My friends await.”

Stafford’s mouth set in a tight line. “Do you require my assistance?”

Aidan shook his head. “No. I must decide what I should do next.”

The viscount whispered, “The girl? She was someone special in your life?”

Avoiding Stafford’s measuring gaze, Aidan looked off. “I thought it to be so, but if the lady departed with Trent, I have likely erred.”

Stafford lowered his voice. “We do not know each other well, Lexford, but believe me when I say, I have learned a bit about love and passion since that fiasco in Derbyshire at Pemberley several years back. If this girl is your ocean, your thunder, your rain, your mountains, your open door. If she is your everything, you would be a fool not to fight for her.”

Mercy stared morosely out the window. She had been at Crandale Hall for five days. Tomorrow she would exchange vows with Sir Lesley. Mathias had made certain Mercy had had no opportunities to either to make her escape or to send a message to Geoffrey. Two maids had kept Mercy company at all times. One slept outside her door, while the other slept within. She had even been able to warn Jamot of Mathias’s knowing of the bed before the door. Although she held no doubt the foreigner would be a dangerous opponent, she still felt an obligation to him for the man’s protection on the road.

The window looked out upon the house’s main entrance, making an escape without being seen would be nearly impossible. Somehow, Mathias had convinced Mr. Wheaton to overlook the expiration of the ordinary license. She did not like to think upon what “inducements” Mathias had offered the man. Hopefully, if Mr. Wheaton had chosen to break the church’s laws, the cleric had earned something more than the threat of bodily harm for his efforts. She supposed the dates had been changed on the necessary documents.

The first evening of her confinement, Mercy had claimed exhaustion and had dined in her room alone. The previous two evenings, she had invited Sir Lesley to dine with her in her chamber’s sitting room. She meant to avoid Mathias as often as possible. The baronet was a genial man, and if were younger, Mercy might not consider this joining with such distaste. However, the thought of a man older than her father being her husband went against her sensibilities.

In addition to the agony of becoming Lady Trent, she now wondered how she and the baronet would be able to stop Mathias’s manipulations. Mercy was quite certain Sir Lesley would not take kindly to her suggestion that Mathias was involved in illegal activities. She was very much on her own in this matter.

*

Aidan and Hill had set a course for Lancashire. The Bedford innkeeper had had but two fresh horses, and so Swenton had continued on to London as Stafford’s guest in the viscount’s carriage.

“Promise me you will tell no one of these events,” Aidan had pressed.

The baron had earnestly studied Aidan’s countenance. “By your own hand, Pennington, and likely Sir Carter, know of Jamot’s presence in your home.” Swenton did not need to remind Aidan of what he now regretted. “I must, at a minimum, speak of our suspicions regarding Mathias Trent to Sir Carter.”

Reluctantly, Aidan had agreed. “But nothing of Miss Nelson. Promise me, John. If I fail, I want no sympathy from our Realm brothers. I have had my fill of consideration.”

Unwillingly, Swenton nodded his agreement. “If you find Miss Nelson in time, take her to Linton Park. Even if the others are in London, Lord and Lady Linworth will welcome you to Linton Chapel. The place has brought good fortune to the others, and you will likely require it after such a tumultuous time.”

Aidan objected. “I had thought of Scotland. It is much quicker.”

The baron shook Aidan’s hand in departure. “Everyone will anticipate your going to Scotland. If anyone means to stop you, your traveling in the opposite direction will fool your pursuers. As to the special license, in your stead, I will call at Doctors Commons tomorrow. When the special license is secured, I will have it carried to Linton Park by the Realm’s fastest courier. Take Miss Nelson to Derbyshire and begin your life’s journey in a proper church. It would please me to know you are among the fortunate ones.”

The sound of Hill’s approach brought Aidan from his musings. Even after two days of hard riding, Aidan still held doubts of his success. “I have secured rooms for the night. We should be in Chorley tomorrow.”

Aidan glanced about the private room. He ate because he required the strength to carry on. He slept for the same reason, but with each mile they had covered, he had known dread. What if he were too late or worse yet, what if he had misjudged Miss Nelson’s sentiments?

As if he had read Aidan’s thoughts, Hill assured, “We will arrive in time.”

The sauce dripped from his fork. The utensil did not move from where he had raised it to his lips. “And what if we do not?”

Hill’s eyebrow rose in stark disbelief. “The lady is a fighter, my Lord. Miss Nelson will not go easy.”

Aidan jammed the fork into his mouth to accept the bit of meat and potato. In his mind, he chewed upon what Hill had said. Miss Nelson was a fighter, but she had meant to set him free. “I wish for an early start. I mean to be on Trent’s doorstep at a most unsociable hour.”

*

Aidan and Hill crouched low to watch the comings and goings of an obviously busy household. “What do you suspect is so important?” Hill asked.

“I do not wish to think upon it,” Aidan said dejectedly.

Hill started away. “Stay here. I mean to ask.”

Aidan caught his friend’s arm. “Trent may recognize you.”

Hill smiled that wily grin Aidan knew so well. “I do not intend to ask the baronet’s son. That is not unless someone else cannot provide me an answer. You keep watch and save the heroics until we need them.”

A few minutes later, Hill slipped into the open stable door. He glanced about, but no one appeared to be within. Cautiously, Lucifer edged along the line of open stalls. Finally, he called out, “Anyone about?”

A moment of silence followed before an old man with thinning gray hair appeared from the tack room. “May I hep you?”

Lucifer offered up an easy smile. “Just lookin’ for a bit of werk.” He used the dialect once common to his speech.

The man eyed Lucifer suspiciously. “You been in the war?”

“Since ’09 and Corunna.” Lucifer knew something of all the major battles. Lexford and the others had taught him well. “Been lookin’ for steady werk since leavin’ Belgium.”

“You appear fit enough, but I’m ‘fraid I kin offer you nothin’ today. The baronet be gitten himself married. Twill be no hirin’ for a week or more.”

Hill shrugged regrettably. “I don’t be expectin’ to remain in Lancashire a week, but I thank you for yer kindness.” He started toward the still open door. “I hope yer new mistress be a kind one, and the baronet fills his house with children.”

“Miss Nelson be a baron’s sister and young enough to add to Sir Lesley’s family.” The man followed Hill toward the door.

Lucifer paused casually. “You didn’t say what time the nuptials be.”

The old man took out a pocket watch. “Less than a half hour.”

*

Mercy with two maids in tow paced the small anteroom. She had begged Sir Lesley to postpone the ceremony until Geoffrey could return to give her away, but the baronet had answered each of her objections with “Mathias has made arrangements for…” or “Mathias assures me…” Sir Lesley had turned much of his life over to his son, which would prove a major mistake if she could not convince the baronet of his son’s duplicity.

When Mr. Wheaton had spoken to her earlier, she attempted to plead for his assistance, but the curate remained adamant that the ceremony was the baronet’s wish.

“It is time, Miss,” the maid known as Sally said from behind her. Mercy glanced down at the pale yellow dress Sir Lesley had had made for her. “Yellow,” she grumbled. “It only goes to show how little my future husband knows of my preferences. I shall spend my life looking as if I am a wilted spring flower.”

“I think the gown quite lovely, Ma’am,” the maid assured.

Mercy rolled her eyes. “But not for a woman of my coloring,” she protested.

A light tap at the door indicated her options had expired. Sir Lesley waited. Mercy grudgingly jammed the yellow bonnet upon her head and tied the too long ribbon in a flamboyant bow. She followed the maid from the room. With eyes dejectedly upon the floor, she walked toward her future.

*

Hill had rushed to where Aidan waited. “We have less than a half hour,” he yelled as he mounted.

Aidan’s heart jumped into action. They had earlier scouted the area and knew the location of the nearest church. Aidan whipped the horse’s reins from side to side as he dug in his heels.
Please God
, he prayed with each pounding stride of his horse’s hoofs.
Do not steal her away from me.

He and Hill slowed their animals, as the small church grew larger with their approach. “Damnation!” Hill growled as they reined in on the hill overlooking the chapel. “Trent is taking no chances.” Armed guards prowled the church grounds.

Aidan grinned. “There are only ten or so, and I have missed a bit of physical contact while I recovered from my injury.” Aidan extracted a gun from an inside pocket.

Hill shook his head in amusement. “In that case, you can take the front. I will enter through the back.”

Aidan’s smile widened. “Just the way I prefer it. Be wary, my Friend.”

“You too, Sir.”

With that, they separated. Aidan made his way quickly down the hill. Crouched low, he half slid to the bottom and was charging the guards milling about before the church before they knew of his presence. The first one earned a small knife placed perfectly in the soft part of the man’s throat while the second received an incapacitating blow across the back of his neck. The third a bullet to the knee.

*

The sound of gunshot brought Mercy’s head up. Hope had arrived. If there were trouble outside, perhaps she could escape in the melee.

“What is amiss?” Sir Lesley asked his eldest son.

Mathias grumbled, “Likely nothing more than some fool cleaning his gun.” The baronet’s heir strode toward the front of the church. “Continue with the ceremony, Mr. Wheaton.”

The curate’s trembling lips began the customary reading. “Dearly beloved…we are gathered…together here…in the sight of God…and in the face…of this company…”

*

Two more of the baronet’s guards charged Aidan. He sidestepped, sending one flipping over his shoulder to land awkwardly upon his backside. The sound of bones breaking, said the man would not be moving soon, but to guarantee no renewal of the culprit’s attack, Aidan stomped hard upon the man’s chest. He turned to latch onto the second of the two. Like a bare knuckles champ, he hit the man squarely in the nose with several quick jabs. Blood poured from his attacker’s nostrils. Aidan’s next jab struck the man in the neck before shoving him to the ground. “Move and I will kill you,” he growled.

Finishing off the last of the guards, Aidan rushed to the church door. Jerking it open, he came face to face with the man who had entered his house with Jamot.

*

“Which is an honest estate instituted by God…”

The noise outside told Mercy something more than a man cleaning his gun was amiss. She shot a glance to Sir Lesley’s frowning countenance before making her decision to put a halt to the ceremony, even if it was only a temporary delay. With a fluttering hand to her cheek, Mercy pretended to swoon and dropped to the floor. Keeping her eyes closed, she waited for what would happen next.

*

Lucifer caught two of the men by their collars and slammed their heads together. Both sets of eyes had gone blank before he had released them to kiss the ground. A third received an elbow to the neck before he slumped over. A solid blow to the man’s back sent his attacker into the dirt.

Lucifer turned to meet the next assailant, but no one appeared. Two men scattered toward the hill without looking back. The sound of a single shot told him the viscount had met a more established force, and Lucifer had thought to rush to Lexford’s side, but he knew his role in this mission. He was to reach and protect Miss Nelson. Therefore, he kicked at the locked door. Once. Twice. On the third attempt the door banged open. Rushing through the small storage room, Lucifer burst into the main church. “Cease with the vows!” he shouted. Gun pointing at the curate and an elderly gentleman, Lucifer planted his stance and waited for Lexford’s appearance. As if on cue, the main door flew open to reveal the viscount. Unfortunately, another man waited also.

*

One of the maids had rushed to Mercy’s side, but as far as she could tell with her eyes closed, no one else had thought to tend to her. Then a familiar voice called out, “Cease with the vows!” and Mercy’s heart soared. Mr. Hill had come for her. Was the viscount also present? She cautiously opened her eyes and pushed herself to her elbows.

Brandishing the gun, Mr. Hill had sent the baronet and the curate, as well as the Sir Lesley’s younger children, who huddled together in a corner, in retreat. Mercy took advantage of the distraction. She scrambled to her feet to reach Mr. Hill. “Thank God, you arrived in time.”

He shoved her behind him. “Stay close,” Hill cautioned.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sir Lesley pushed past Mr. Wheaton to take a position of prominence.

When the main door had flown open, Mercy had prayed for her one particular miracle: Lord Lexford’s appearance, but when she finally saw him after a fortnight of separation, all she could do was stare in bewilderment. He had come. “Aidan,” she whispered as their eyes met.

The viscount also held a gun, and Mathias Trent raised his hands in surrender. “Move!” Lord Lexford had ordered, and Trent had stepped away, but not far enough for Mercy’s comfort.

“Beware of Trent,” Mercy warned Hill in hushed tones, and the gentle giant beside her tensed in response.